The Moon In The Night Time
by borderlandtvshow
Summary: Tony finds Ziva in a state of discomfort. They talk. "I love you so much it's disgusting" AU 2015 where CDP renewed her contract. T/Z.
1. Chapter 1

**AU 2015 [If CDP chose to renew her contract, something like this would eventually happen] Don't believe me? Bones, NCIS: LA, CSI, etc...**

 _When a door closes, a window opens._

Exhaustion oozes out of her, sweat drips down the crown of her forehead. She's been punching the sand bag hanging from the nearly vacant 24/7 fitness center. Dust comes off her gloves like sprays of falling water unto sharp rocks. Images of a half-dead man gasping for one last full breath of air in the back of some Chili's dumpster ben keeps flooding back in into her memory black box. One last punch causes a sharp pain in her bicep and she grits her teeth and moans from the pain. She stops before she tears another ligament. God knows she's done that before.

Why does this man bother her so much?

Maybe it's because he looked a lot like her dead father, who had been shot and killed in a drive-by on a Friday evening between 5 and 6 when the sun was just setting. Oh look, she notices through the high window of the gym, the sun had already set just like the man's life.

Oh, _how cliché_ , she thinks. Here she is after work with bruised knuckles and barely blistering fingertips and aching wrists from too-tight boxing gloves she thought were on right. She should be home getting ready for a shower or indulging on cheap box wine, just like every other case that ends with an unfortunate loss of a soul.

But the man who had lost his life was an agent. He worked mostly on-site at Quantico but would come up every month to check-in with Vance. An average guy, a little on the husky side, but kind. He had a wife who had been by his side for 23 years and two sons in high school and college. He had a life. He had a family. She did not. She could have easily been him. In fact, she almost was:

 _S_ he was running, pulling six shots at a man who was wanted for embezzling and two suspected murders of a Navy lieutenant and an unsuspecting night janitor.

 _H_ er temporary partner for the day, who lies in autopsy right now waiting to be examined, was telling her to duck down and follow his league. He didn't know that she was a trained and very lethal former Mossad officer, but she didn't feel the need to explain that part of her life. He was well advanced in age and had far more Navy experience than she. And because he did, she went along with his commands and advice.

 _H_ e motioned for her to move around the other wall, while he took the fence, perhaps they could corner him and finally get the bastard in custody.

 _S_ he moved out of his sight; he was out of hers. Quiet.

Still quiet.

 _T_ hen, bam! Once shot. She hears the sounds of grunting and yelling.

 _S_ he runs towards the fire. Two shots.

 _H_ er Glock 22 moves in every direction and only then she sees the back of the suspect running towards an Escalade. Her instinct is to run after him, but she has two feet and he has four wheels. She stops, breathing heavily, hands on her hips, and memorizes the license plate.

 _S_ he picks up her phone, calls it in to Gibbs. McGee starts running a search on the plates. Stolen car. Then, he gets access to the street cameras to find out where he's going and perhaps where he's been.

 _W_ hen she returns, expecting a semi-injured agent, she is greeted by an expansive pool of blood beside the man that seemed fine an hour ago. They had made small talk, focusing on his life rather than hers. She preferred it this way. His son was about to star in his senior showcase at school, he had already bought him a new guitar and made reservations at a fancy restaurant for celebration.

 _A_ seemingly great guy struck down my some lunatic with money problems and no conscience. She was a witness to it. And his life was drifting away. She did everything she could think of; turning him over on the side, and applying pressure to the wound before the ambulance arrived… she tried everything and yet….he still died.

She wipes the sweat from her brow, picks up the Aquafina sitting beside her gym bag and heads to the showers.

Before she completely undresses, she looks at her reflection in the mirror. She sees a shattered person who had seen too much, done too much, and said too little. She wonders if this is what she should be doing, if this is where she needs to be.

 _If you don't, who else will?_

God, all she desires is happiness, to have what that man had. Is that too much to ask?

 _You have saved me, oh Lord. Too many times I have walked out on Your blessings. One in particular and just give me a sign I am doing the right thing. Because I feel so lost._

If only she had…

 _If only I had…_

"Tony?"

His reflection appeared in the mirror she had been looking into. He was silent, leaning against the doorway and just staring with a small smile but concerned eyes.

Only after a transitory stare-down did he speak.

"I heard about what happened today," he says. "Went by your place. Figured you might be here."

She wants to take a hot shower and burn the emotions away like the Mike Franks files. "Well," she starts. "You found me."

 _If this is You, please don't make this too serious._

"And I'm glad I did. You look like hell," he jokes, making a move to his hair trying to insinuate the mess of her hair is somehow more displaced than her present condition.

 _Okay, it's You. You had to send Tony. Tony, of course. The goof-ball, the inappropriate talkative son of a…never mind…forget it, he's perfect._

"Considering the nature of this place, Tony, it's hard to imagine me _not_ looking like hell." Her eyes roll, "and if you hadn't noticed…I was about to take a shower."

She turns around to grab a towel but feels a hand on her shoulder urging her to stay put. The feeling of his warm hand on her bare flesh brought another sensation out of hiding. He notices the tiny jolt that came out of her in response to his touch.

It was the same feeling they discussed a week before the Canary case. He thought maybe Gibbs had known the two of them were entertaining the idea of establishing a real relationship. After all, she mentioned, the Boss Man didn't slap Tony on the back of the head after Tony called her 'sexy'. Why would he if they weren't _just_ coworkers? Oh, the memories. Damn the memories!

Her eyes slowly lift themselves from the plush white cotton in her hand to his eyes in the mirror. He had on a light blue button down shirt which was untucked from his black slacks, signifying the end of day look he had often worn around her place.

"Why are you here?" she asks quietly.

He breathes in and looks for an excuse, "because you need someone to talk to," he explains, "I should have ignored Vance's order to accompany him at that Senate luncheon. I'm your partner Ziva, always will be."

"No. You could've taken those bullets instead of…"

" _Could've_ but I wouldn't have because we would be doing what both of us agree on, that's how _we_ work," he says with an eyebrow raise. "Everyone goes on their own time, Ziva. You know that. Don't beat yourself up on this one."

He notes her micro expressions, perhaps it's not about the agent's death that's taking stabs at her.

 _It's even more personal than that._

"I really would like to take a shower, Tony." She sees the apprehension in his stance and is up for compromise. "After I'm done here. We'll talk, okay?"

He looks at her quizzically, then nods his head at her cooperation. "Alright. I'll be right here. So... No running away or escaping through the air ducts."

She's already enjoying the hot water by the time he finishes the sentence. He had missed Ziva being personal with him for a few weeks after they decided it was a better idea to stop seeing each other for reasons deeper than coworkers and field partners. The thing is, it messed with both of them way more than either of them expected. He didn't date; she didn't date. It still felt like cheating. But the even stranger part of it was that they never defined the partnership/relationship they had in the first place.

In the midst of the water running, he could hear soft singing. It was Ziva. He got closer from the lockers where he had been waiting to the first line of showers. He smiled at the way her voice was so magnetizing, so soothing, so very unlike her alter-ego; the deadly ninja crime fighter. When he realized she was singing the Breakfast Club theme song, he caught himself bobbing his head along to the melody.

 _Don't you forget about me_

 _Will you stand above me?_

 _Look my way, never love me_

 _Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling_

 _Down, down, down_

Just when he was able to fully enjoy the tune, the water shuts off abruptly and the curtain opens slightly to a now humming Ziva. He quickly scurried out of the view of the showers and into the locker room.

About five and a half minutes passed and she was walking out to where Tony sat, playing a game on his phone to pass the time.

"Tony," she questions looking down at him. Her duffle bag hanging full off on her shoulder.

"One sec. almost have- AH!" Ziva jumps a little at his excitement. "New high score. Yes." He clicks the phone and shoves it into his pocket then looks directly at Ziva. He sighs looking at her semi-wet mess of curls and her warm, familiar smile. He would love nothing more than to kiss her forehead and wrap his arms around her, but there are these translucent barriers now he dare to cross. She clears her throat, maybe because her thoughts were on the same concourse as his. He pats his knees and stands straight offering her his arm, "shall we?"

She smiles a little, knowing that a friend is there with her during a night like this. It's nice not to be alone; Ziva had had enough of that. There's a difference between solitude and isolation.

They are almost to the front door when he stops to look at her and wraps his arm around her back, "where do you want to go?"

Her thoughts jumble for a moment in time to think for the answer, then just goes with the best option mostly because of the lateness of the hour, "home."

"Alright. Sounds good."

She holds the door open for him and he follows. She sits on her sofa and props her de-shoed feet on the table in front of her. Tony follows suit, allowing him to take off his coat and sit on the opposite end of the couch.

"So, what's going on in that thick head of yours?" Great. Don't find traction in small talk.

She's contemplating whether or not to just get right into it, talk, and 'bear our souls', as he has said before. Either way, he knows when she's hiding and she knows that as well. So…

"Before my father died he told me that the truth has many faces…and I suppose that's still true."

She explains that seeing a man- _a good man_ \- with a family die in front of her where she could've just as easily been in his place hurt. It hurt because she didn't have what he had.

"I understand." He does. Baltimore to the Navy yard; Paris to Israel. "It's different when you know the man that dies in front of you has a guilty conscience…it's another when they're innocent…absolutely innocent…and you think if you acted sooner they wouldn't be lying lifeless on a cold autopsy table." She pulls her hand from her neck and starts picking at her nails, distracting herself from the ball of hot, boiling water deep within her abdomen.

"Perhaps, it…" she feels a burning tear creeping at the corner of her eye. Her right index finger nudges it back, not wanting to show such vulnerability. "I feel regret."

"About doing what your father told you to do? Being the assassin instead of the normal girl?" She nods, quietly holding back tears.

"I need to stop lying to myself. I tell myself that I am this strong invincible soldier and-"

"Ziva, you _are_ strong _and_ beautiful-"

"I'm not meant to be alone like this. No one is!" Her voice is filled with so much frustration. "We aren't bread just to fight till death, work day and night, with no cause. The truth is, I wish I could have a family of my own, Tony. I mean…is that so wrong?"

"No. It's not wrong, Ziva. If it were, we'd both be wrong."

She looks up to him and notices he was a lot closer than she originally thought. He rested his arm around her and pulled her closer to him. And she didn't resist, she allowed her wall to be torn down so he could be what he wanted to be for her. He was the only one that could sit with her so intimately, know this much about her, and talk to her like a best friend.

"Why would you be wrong?" she asks innocently, nuzzling her head near his chest. Any other day she would be wondering what the two of them looked like, being close together, spilling into each other, but she was too focused on other things to mind.

"Because I want that too," he admitted. "A family." Her body tenses up after realizing the bag of worms she had opened. _They_ had opened. He's well aware so he continues to talk like it was no big deal. "But it's too late for me. It's not too late for you, Ziva. There's someone out there for you."

His thumb slowly moves back and forth on her upper arm. The last part stung in his mind, he can't believe what he just said. He wanted her, he loved her, he wanted…he just couldn't bear the thought of someone else holding her like this and knowing her secrets.

She thinks about a response. She loved him, though she never directly admitted it. It was always 'we love you' or 'you are loved'. One day she hopes to say it to his face, very clearly.

"I don't think there is…" She was about to say that the only person for her was him, but it was too late. He was already getting uncomfortable. Her mouth is open, about to say what she was thinking, but he stirred in silence.

After the silence she hears a low, almost jealous voice say "I would have given you that."

At first she doesn't believe what she hears. Is this man beside her trying to tell her…?

" _What_?"

She moved out of the cocoon they had created and turned her body so that she was facing him.

His eyes drift downwards to his clammy palms and then back to her eyes. With a surer tone, back to normal speaking volume, he opens his mouth and the words fall right out, "I want what we had back, Ziva."

"Tony, I don't. I mean what were we? We couldn't let the cat out of the bag without our jobs at risk. You couldn't tell your own father! What kind of 'relationship' is that?"

" _Actually_ my father knew. He asks me about you every other time I talk to him. I'm pretty convinced if I hadn't dated you he would be trying to get you in his arms instead," his says the last part softer, actually reveling in the way his father worked. "Look, Ziva…" he rubs his temple and says the next part very carefully, "I am in love with you."

Her mouth is as confused, but mostly stunned, as she is. At first it shuts tight, then opens and smirks, then it's just hanging open waiting for her brain to come up with something to say.

"Tony, I don't think that's a very-"

How her heart hurts. The only reason they stopped _whatever_ they had from progressing was the work-social rules and the fear that their judgment would be compromised. But she still wanted him, she still missed him not being with her after work, she still loved him.

"Ziva, I am done with us walking around our feelings like they're some damn eggshells," he demanded. "Now, either we can make this work-and believe me, this can work if you allow it to- or I can leave and…go to another team."

"I would never ask you to leave to go to another team," she sounded helpless.

"I know you wouldn't, but I would."

There was a silence so thick it felt as if the air had gotten heavier around them. She looked onward to the wall in front of her. After a moment she looked over to Tony, his head was in his palm, resting, but also processing information. She stood up and as she did she could tell Tony's eyes were fixed on her. He thought maybe she was getting up to leave, but in her own apartment? Nah.

Before he knew it, she was kneeling down by Tony's legs on the couch. She was smiling with her mouth closed and looking up at him with admiring eyes. He couldn't not manage to mirror what she did, what she was feeling right in that very second.

"You really love me?"

"Yes. One hundred and ten percent yes. I love you so much it's disgusting," he caresses her cheek and sweeps her strands away from her eyes. Her stomach feels flighty like a ton of butterflies are trying to escape. She wants to grab him by the neck and steal a dozen hungry kisses.

"Well, I love you so much it's outright repulsive," regardless her declaration was breathy and gentle and so true.

He just grins and lets the words sink in. Oh, God, how he has longed for this moment. A moment where a woman like her, Ziva, could allow him through and enter her heart.

Suddenly, she grabs Tony's hand. "What about the children?"

"Children?" Tony questions still grinning like a fool, cocking his head.

"You told me that you could give me what I wanted- …" She made a motion with her other hand. Tony remembers that hey were talking about family just less than a half hour ago.

"Oh." Then Tony nervously laughs, rubbing his free hand behind his head. "Yeah, I did."

"Unless you weren't being serious." She has him now, right where she wants him.

"Ziva, I would rather marry you first before we have kids."

Tony breathes in when he sees her eyes roll and get up from her kneeling position. He knows she was toying with him, but they both knew that all of what she was wanting (what he was wanting, too) were very real thoughts to ponder. The facts were as plain as the moon in the night time: He did want kids. He wanted her. He wanted kids (one day) with her.

"So, you would marry me?" Ziva goes into another room before he had the time to respond.

"Well, I guess I would. I don't see any reason I wouldn't." Ziva's gone from the room, probably vanished to come up with some more questions. He speaks in a lower volume, "Of course I would marry you." As if he's repeating to really grab hold of the big idea. He was wondering how they were talking about all of this so…so… nonchalantly.

When she returns she's smirking, dressed in one of his larger sports Tee's. His heart misses a beat when he sees her. Is she taunting him or is she welcoming him? He can't tell.

Her eyes are no longer worried, consistently wrecked with regrets and fear. Tony looks down to his lap, not knowing where this is going, where he's supposed to look. "Ziva?" She saunters over and offers her hand to have him get up.

He takes her hand with a curious smile and furrowed brows. She looks up to him through long lashes, those that are the color of her curly brown tresses. He notes that her skin is way more tangible now that she is opening herself up to him again. So he delicately places his left hand at the curve of her neck and it lingers there. She moves against it.

"I've missed you," he whispers against her hair. His arms are wrapped around her shoulders like a jacket to keep one warm in the chill of winter.

"I know," she breathes with eyes closed.


	2. Chapter 2

_The sweet smell of ocean water, fruity margaritas strong enough to do the job, and perfectly tanned skin fill his lungs and satisfy his cravings. Perfect relaxation. Completely mesmerizing until it started to sprinkle on him on such a seemingly sunny day._

He's awakened to the sound of running water. _Ziva._ He yawns into her pillow and forces himself to sit up, planting his two bare feet on the ground.

He looks to the clock beside him, he usually doesn't wake up this early so a part of him craves to go back to sleep. The other part wants to wrap his arms around his woman (and then go back to sleep). He turns his head towards the light in the bathroom and allows his eyes to adjust.

Ziva's humming becomes clearer as he approaches. All he's wearing is his boxers and a little scruff from having not shaved. She told him over two years ago that she liked that look on him, so he wasn't concerned in the least. Perhaps he'll go into work like this. Eh, maybe not.

"What are you doing up so early?"

"Spring cleaning," she casually states.

"You're lying. For one, it's not Spring. And two, it's four in the morning. Only psychos get up this early to 'spring clean'", and you're not psycho…at least _I_ don't think you are."

She looked over at him from her closet. She first smiled then scanned his body from toe to face. Tony instantly felt like he was being gawked at like the time when they worked their first case together. "Ziva."

"Hm. What are _you_ doing up so early?"

Are they really going to start bantering right now?

He puts his hand on his hip and rubs his eyes, "I'm up because you're up. Now, it's your turn."

She huffs and resumes, what appears to be, organizing her closet or picking out an outfit for the day. "I was going to go running but …just didn't feel like it."

"That's probably a good idea. You need to take a break," Tony turns toward the bedroom, hopefully she follows. She and he always had a hot and cold relationship. When she was cold, almost frigid, he would be scalding to the point of burning. However, time and mending bridges became a catalyst for establishing something absolutely wonderful. To say they were each other's companion could not describe them like explaining to someone that they indeed belonged to each other. They were best friends, partners, and night time lovers. Tony was trying to ask her to be his in every single denotation of the word. Legally. But he could only stare back at her with soft devoted eyes, "come on."

Ziva rolls her eyes but appreciates his concern so she reluctantly goes back to bed. Tony patted the space next to him. She felt rather than saw him sleepily smiling at her when he did.

Her body noted how perfect she felt against him and how much she missed this. "Tony," she whispered.

"Hm?"

"I was up because I was thinking about last night," she breathes. "I was happy. I am happier now."

Tony shifted a little and she feels his lips on her neck causing a shiver down her spine. "I love you. And you smell really good."

She chuckles and closes her eyes. "Thank you? And I love you, too. Now go back to sleep."

 _White sands on a Haifa beach skid against her skin. Oh, how she loves the sun's rays warming every bit of her like a childhood blanket that kept her from feeling the harsh coldness of a snowy winter. Her hands grazes her side to find another one resting beside her. He is there with her, napping soundly. She smiles inwardly when she looks ahead and sees the back of a little girl making mounds of sand into tiny castles._

They walk into the bullpen together. In the before, they would trail a little behind each other not wanting to make their sleeping arrangements public news nor watercooler gossip. They were convinced Gibbs would kill both of them. He was, after all, the eyes that don't even have to look and the ears that could hear without even the intsy-bittiest of sound. Afterall, that's what makes him such a great investigator. And his gut.

Another, newer agent in speaking with McGee, they are in some heated debate about how dubstep isn't real music and how video games should or shouldn't include recorded music from mainstream artists.

"What's this McLerius? Comic Con arriving early this year. Ah, I get it he's the nerd and you're the princess? No, wait, nerd princess." Tony gives the newbie his trademark DiNozzo grin. Ziva folds her arms and lightly jabs him in the side causing him to melodramatically whine from the blow.

"Leave them alone, Tony," she graciously smiles and heads back to her desk, not wanting to get involved with whatever mocking was about to take place.

McGee rolls his eyes and lowers the sound of low playing music on his computer. Tony inwardly laughed and commented on the music, "Did the beat drop so hard Dora stopped exploring?"

Tim bit the side of his cheek, " _Tony_. Ziva. This is Probationary agent Ryan." Ryan looks at Tony with a proud stance, almost challenging his authority. "He's just about to _leave_." And with a nod McGee is left alone at his desk.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees Ziva making a face at Tony and giggling to herself, like something he did was funny. He can't help but to think something was going on. After putting his pen down he observed the two of them, almost like he was a fly on their cubicle wall. He saw Tony look down to his cellphone and then back to Ziva. She looked down to her phone and after reading what he sent (of course it had to be Tony) she chuckled and rolled her eyes back to Tony. She responded with a text of her own and whatever she texted made Tony wiggle his eyebrows and silent growl in her direction.

Tim had seen enough of this back and forth four-play he was witnessing literally in front of his eyes. "What in the hell-," he mumbled barely audibly. "Did you two drive in together or something?"

Tony turned from his computer for a brief second, "Uh-huh." He isn't even hiding it?

Ziva shrugs and gets back into her work, like no revelation about her and Tony were tragically uncovered.

"Anything _else_ you did together?" Tony glances back to Tim and gives him a tight smile. "Okay…"

Around noontime, Ziva finds Tony at the vending machine getting a bag of chips. She's been trying to get Tony healthier by picking groceries and making foods they both enjoy, but evry now and then she finds him giving in to temptations.

"What's this?" she says, smirking at his sudden jump at the sound of her voice. He knew better than to go behind the back of a light footed ninja.

"I was… uh…" he looks down to see the chips in his hand and quickly put it behind his back. Clearly, he's acting like an idiot. She already saw the stupid chips. Just own up to it!

"You were what?" She steps closer to him and he breathes in and out in defeat.

"Ok, I was going to selfishly eat them. I am sorry, grand master."

Ziva laughs and places her hand on Tony's shoulder. "Just eat them. But you will eat your vegetables tonight, yes?"

Tony cocks his head and raises an eyebrow, "that's not the only thing I'm going to be eating, is it?"

She looks at him with a sweet grin and pecks a small kiss on his lips before turning away. No more words needed. He obviously stares at her rear, she knows this as well. So, he takes a bite of his chips with pride and then throws the rest away. It's the least he could do for the woman he loves more than carbohydrate and empty calories.

-.-.-.-

"Ducky wanted me to get this up to you," McGee hands over a small plastic jar with a black lid that contained a bloody knife tip. Abby slightly skips over and takes it with eagerness.

"Great, whoever did this certainly does not know how to clean up after themselves. Do you know how many knives have this particular tip?" She takes the fragment out and examines it under her light, "looks fiberglass." Then turns to McGee who is looking at her mass-spect. "Oh, this reminds me of one of my old boyfriend's collection of death metal band equipment and wicked costumes. I thought I was obsessed with all things dark and mysterious but-"She stops short, noticing the pained look on McGee's face.

"Timmy? Something wrong?"

McGee waves off the question "No. No..."

"McGee, you look constipated. You only look like that when something is worrying you." He groans not wanting to get Abby involved but he's dealing with a smart woman here, so he can't exactly walk out of here without answering her. That would only have the suspicion rise and a suspicious Abby is the dangerous Abby. "Spill!"

"Abby, I think Tony and Ziva are … _you know_ …"

For a moment there is silence then Abby starts smirking.

"What's so funny?"

Abby shrugs and walks back to her monitor, " _You_. They're adults McGee. Not high school students caught in the back of a car on prom night."

McGee opens his mouth to say something, "It's weird."

Abby steps back to her computer and smiles wide, "I don't think it's weird. I think it's sweet. I think it's right. I think..it's about damn time they did something about their feelings. And make it official. The whole floor kinda has this theory about when they will finally spill the beans. I think there's the pool is up to 62 bucks."

"62 dollars?!" Tim exclaims, how could he have been so blind? "For Ziva and Tony? How long has this been going on?"

"The bet or _them?"_

"Both!"

"I don't know for sure, but since Parsons the rumors spread like wildfire."

Abby did have a point there. Ever since all three of them quit and then were reinstated, Ziva and Tony have been stuck together like glue. Have they been an item the whole damn time, but he's too tunnel visioned to see something so obvious? They were his partners, too. Maybe there is a little bit of guilt or betrayal creeping up in his stomach. He should have known.

"What if Gibbs finds out?"

"And this is your concern _how_? Be a big boy and let them deal with it. Plus, you know Gibbs. He's like this all-knowing genie in a bottle. He probably already knows!"

Well, he does feel some sort of relief after telling Abby, "Wait, did you know too?"

"Psh, of course I did. Didn't you?"

And a little more guilt rises to his esophagus...

-.-.-

"Vance wants you two up in MTAC," Gibbs commands, strolling into the pen with a white coffee cup in hand.

The two of them exchange a look then head upstairs. Both of them wonder what it might be about, but they promised they wouldn't back down from a fight.

"Zoom in. Enhance on terminal D," Vance instructs the tech sitting against the wall. He notices Tony and Ziva from the ramp. "Agents David and DiNozzo. Nice to see you both."

"Director," they greet in unison.

"I called you up here because, according to Gibbs, you've been seeing each other on a more personal basis. Is that correct?"

Tony sighs, "if that is a problem I would be more than happy to give up my position-"

"We both are," Ziva confidently declares.

"Oh. Nonsense," Vance is surprising them both. Is he okay with this?

"With all due respect director, our relationship is out of the office…," Ziva explains.

"Alright." He sees confusion on both of his agents faces and takes a seat in one of the chairs, "you two are some of my finest agents. You pursuing a relationship is none of my concern. Now, I can't speak for Gibbs, so you'll have to deal with him separately. I believe he has a rule for these sort of things…" Tony nudges Ziva and looks pleased, she does too. "So…if you don't mind me asking, is this _thing_ serious?" Vance makes a hand gesture between them.

Tony takes Ziva's hand, "Do you want to-"

Ziva squeezes his hand back, "I mean. If you want to…he will know eventually, Tony. So there's no point in keeping it a secret…"

"Yes, agent DiNozzo?" The director's hands are clasped together, eager to hear his employee's retort.

Tony glances back to her one more time before getting an inch or two closer to him. "We haven't decided when yet, but…uh, we've decided we wanted to make something _permanent."_

"Like marriage." It wasn't a question, in fact, the director said it very matter-a-factly, like Tony's desires where the law of the land.

He's taken aback a little to his surprise, "well, _exactly_ like marriage," he states. "She said yes and that's all I need, her permission, that is."

The director smiles, allowing them to have his go-ahead. Once upon a time, ole Vance was a romantic himself. But that was in a different time and a different place. "Well, if it's alright with you, it's alright with me. Like I said, you, _both_ of you, have done so much good for this agency, the least we could do is allow this. Just let Gibbs know…" he observes the hesitancy in Tony, "Unless you would like me to inform him for you…"

"Uh, no. Thank you, Director." Tony thanks him one more time before leaving. Ziva politely nods and walks back up the ramp.

Vance wonders if he would've allowed this with any other agents under his command. Probably not. He knows Ziva deserves to be happy, although he would never dig up those worms because that would require digging up the conflicting emotions connected to his dead wife and her dead father.


	3. Chapter 3

_Shit. Not again. Not again. Not again. Death has no victory._

Out of Ziva's peripheral, Gibbs and McGee shuffle across the shed to where Tony now lies, trying so hard to catch his breath. He had been shot trying to arrest another nutjob who had been in cahoots with the one who had shot and killed the agent from last week.

In this very moment, Ziva has a choice: she could run and chase after the man, with the hopes of putting a bullet through his head or she could stay and be there for her partner. In the before, would she still be standing here, listening to her heart beat pounding in her head? No, she would be running.

"Ziva? Did you hear me?" Gibbs touched her shoulder to briefly get her out of this thought bubble she had been wandering in.

"Huh?" She doesn't know what to do, what to say, "Sorry." Her gaze finds her boss and surrogate father, "I…can call and get a bolo out."

"Alright. Head back to the office and start running trace. Get Vance to sign off on medic transfer." Gibbs stares at the blank look on Ziva's face waiting for some sign that she's paying attention.

She would have been running. Now, right now, she feels angry with herself. She promised Vance that her relationship would not impede her judgement. _But the shooter would surely outrun her with the motorcycle he escaped on._ What is she feeling? Is it her job? _I am so sick of blood. I am so sick of this bullshit; bad guys and convicts._

Then the same thought from the gym rings loudly in her head, _who else will do it, if you don't?_

But is that her problem, honestly? There are thousands of applicants who would love her job. She's a federal agent, she gets to go to parties where senators get to make face with other government officials. She and Tony both scoff at the big wigs playing it so smooth and suave on the dance floor then when it gets to business they blackmail each other to get some legislation passed with lobbyist influence.

The wheel turns and turns until some poor bastard winds up rolled up like a cigarette in a Persian rug.

She looks to Tony who is coming out of the fog he'd been in. He's sitting up now, putting pressure on his shoulder and _thank God it's only his shoulder_.

She can't leave him. She can't not be by his side when he needs his partner the most. What the hell is she thinking? "No, Gibbs." For a moment she can't believe she would disobey this man's clear and absolutely reasonable request.

"No?"

"Gibbs…," she starts, observing Tony. "Can you please get McGee to do that? I would rather be here."

Of course he knows why his agent wants to stay here, but it's been over a week since they went to Vance, explaining themselves, and not once did they ever come to Gibbs. Is it a request, permission, or a blessing he wanted to bestow upon them? Either way, Ziva needed to talk and right now and here would be the time, whether she liked it or not.

"Gibbs. I am only asking for McGee to go back. I want to stay here."

McGee looks up from Tony's wound to observe the situation. "Hey, I can go if Ziva wants to take Tony to the ER. The ambulance would take 20 minutes to get up here. With Ziva driving it could take only 10."

"Ziva," Gibbs commands.

Ziva's starting to get frustrated as she sees Tony wincing in pain. _The more time we waste.. "Damnit!_ Gibbs I have neither the time or the energy to discuss office politics with you! Yes, Tony and I have been seeing each other. Okay?! Are you happy now that I disclosed this information with you, because our relationship has affected our work so damn much! Tony needs a hospital and I can get him there yesterday if you didn't take this as a personal offense!"

Gibbs' lips twitch a bit and looks back to McGee. Ziva is oblivious and puts her hands on her hips. McGee hands over the keys to Gibbs. He can think about _all of this later._

She walks over to Tony and delicately places her hands on his head, holding him close to her.

"Ziva, the rules-"

"Oh! You can shove your precious rules right up-!"

"Ziva! Sometimes I'm wrong." Gibbs' tone had switched to authoritative to (maybe) understanding. He holds out the car keys, Ziva glances to his face and with a warm smile she takes them. "Go."

-.-.-.-

Luckily, the blow wasn't anything too t _oo_ serious. He had a fracture in the upper Scapula and a bullet fragment that had to be surgically removed underneath the Clavicle. Ziva had been waiting until he was out of surgery to come in to visit with him. The nurse told her to go and get some coffee because he wouldn't be awake for another two hours.

So she reluctantly went away for what seemed like forever to get another coffee and a gift from the gift shop. She laughed at how blasé some of the items were. _I mean, who would buy flowers in the same place you buy band aids? And these cards? If someone truly cared about someone, they would take two minutes to actually write and sign a card,_ she thinks.

But, she finds something in that small corner shop and buys it.

"Tony, hey?" Ziva coos into Tony's palm resting on the bed. He stirs and his eyes open to slits. He smiles softly when he sees her warm hot chocolate hair dangling over his palm. The smell of coco butter brings him back to full consciousness. _Relax_.

"Zi…Ziva," he smiles. A tear runs down her cheek in happiness (or worry). She's surprised it slid down so quickly, not knowing if more would come out. With all of his strength, with his good arm, he brushes his thumb across her cheek to wipe the moisture away. "I was shot," he groans when he looks at the stitch work done by the very skillful surgeons.

She nods, "How long have I been out? Redford in custody?"

"About three hours. Your doctor says you could leave later on today..." she explains.

"Docs want me out that bad, Jeeze I annoy people even when I'm out cold," he jokes.

Ziva reaches over to brush his hair back, Tony closes his eyes to her touch. How he very much enjoyed her hands in his hair. It didn't have to be in his hair, specifically. Her hands could be on any part of his body and he would welcome the touching regardless.

"Redford hasn't been caught yet." She adds, "But they are very close. I can feel it."

She notes that she used the word _they_ and not _we._ Man, she really has to do some self-reflection when she leaves this hospital.

Tony doesn't seem to notice.

"Gut feeling?"

She shrugs, "You could say that." Then she remembers _him._ "Gibbs knows.. about…"

His eyes open back up, processing the information. "He always knew, Ziva. But now it's officially out there." Not being able to read her expression, he asks, "How does that make you feel?"

"Relieved….and scared." Honestly…"What about you?"

He smiles, "Same. But I'm pretty happy. I mean, what more can a man need right now? I've got jello, plastic pitchers of ice water, and a beautiful fiancé sitting pretty beside me."

She loved her new title: fiancé. She runs her fingers through his hair and down the side of his face. Leaning over his recovering body she places a small kiss on his lips. When she's about to pull away he tells her "not yet" and with his good arm he pulls her head in closer to take her in for a deep and searing kiss. His lips feel so good on hers, they both forget they're in a hospital.

"I love you," he whispers into her ear when they break from tasting each other. "God, I love you so much."

She notes his deep voice, his voice breaking from canyon-deep emotions. "I love you, too. So much."

"I swear when I get out of here…"

"When you get out of here, you need to heal. Vance will have you on leave for the rest of the month."

He sighs and nods at her interjection. Healing takes time.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I got you something." Ziva reaches into her bag and pulls out a card and a miniature globe.

"What's this?"

He takes the parchment to realize the cover is a picture of the Eiffel Tower. _Paris._ The memories bring such happiness to the both of them. Just by the picture on the front he can tell she has put a lot of thought into this.

His eyes look watery already and she urges with another smile to read the words she had written him:

 _I once remember you telling me that we would always have Paris. From the work we do here and to the many trips we have done together overseas, nothing is as great a trip as the journey you and I have been on together. Berlin is when we both discovered we were not dancing for work, but dancing because I could no longer handle not being in your arms._

 _You crossed the seas for me three times too many and I can only return the favor by spending the rest of my years showing you how much I deeply admire, appreciate, and love you. With my whole heart._

 _Love, Z_

She doesn't care about how sappy this all makes her look. He knows more than anyone else that she had spent a good portion of her life making enemies in savage warfare. She still was a deadly woman and would not hesitate to hurt anyone she felt was an impending threat.

But she has made changes. And although she hates herself for admitting it, she is relieved that her father left the earth. Maybe with his absence she appreciates the miniscule good things he did for her growth. With him gone, the looming attitude Mossad engrained in her left as well. She didn't have to fight for his approval nor concern herself with the estrangement in their relationship. She could focus on her _own_ approval and her own life.

His breath hitches for a moment in time. Hot tingles run down his body and settles within his chest. How much love. What word could describe…

"Thank you," he thanks her barely above a whisper. He rubs his eyes and motions her over. "The globe is a reminder of the adventures we have gone on together and the many that we still have to plan."

He spins the globe and looks at the many countries where his fingertip lands.

"Any particular place you want to go, sweet cheeks?"

She laughs a bit then leans back in her chair, "Anywhere you want. It's your turn to lead."

And with that he thinks for the perfect destination.

-.-.-.-

She needs to leave, just for a little bit. There needs to be enough time to process and assess. Everything seemed to be fine and wonderful and now it's scary again. Perhaps her judgment _was_ relapsing. Maybe she could be doing a better job at work but now she has him to worry about. Is NCIS the place is which He wants her to work, or was it an excuse to leave Mossad and hone in her skills, change her life, and now it's time for the next adventure? Is there such a thing as metamorphosis for the soul?

It's all so odd. But all at once it is illuminating. Job had his life uprooted and his entire family crushed for no visually apparent reason, but he still had faith that there would be blessings bestowed upon him. She then remembers that after the testing, the trials, the hellfire, he did become even more prosperous than before as he had such courage and faith in God to lead him through the pain and into promise.

 _Why is it so hard for me to simply let go and allow someone else to take the wheel? Am I really that prideful?_ How she began to think about Somalia and her teammates warnings before Rivkin's death, which she resented. If she could go back, she would slap herself for such dishonorable acts.

So then she finds herself beside Gibbs working on his hundredth boat. There was bourbon still on her tongue, feeling a little at ease

"You ever wish to go back, Gibbs?" Sandpaper in her hands making sure she goes with the grain.

He sighs, "I used to." Remembering Kelly and Shannon. "But ya gotta work with what you got."

She looks back to boat then to him, "I don't want to do this anymore."

The sanding stops and he turns to face her. He wonders for a moment about what ever could she mean. What does she _not want to do anymore_? "Care to be more specific?"

Maybe she needed to take another drink…or two….or four. Out with it, already. Tony was recovering, she was blaming herself, and then she wasn't all at the same time. "I'm tired of the fighting. I'm tired of sticking out my neck so far it's hard for me to breath."

He takes a step back and allows Ziva the space to walk, pace the basement floor a bit, and get her thoughts out. Thoughts she had never expressed to him in such a way like this. He did enjoy this even if the subject matter was less than murky.

"I may have been someone else when I first started here. Hell, my relationship with you began because I saved, I mean, killed…" Her voice breaks… "my brother-" It still hurts for her to mention his name. Her stomach twists causing her to gasp.

"I know," he nods.

"Look, the point is I am done," she says standing her ground, convincing herself even. "I am not the same person I was 12 years ago."

"It's been that long…" his eyes drift upward, thinking about the time that has gone by. Kate, Tony, Ziva, Ari, Franks, and oh, who get forget? Jenny.

"My father wanted me to be a ruthless killer, a spy, a shining token of what deceit and vengeance and war. Perhaps America has changed me. I do not know."

He smiles at her honesty, "So I'm losing an agent?"

She smiles back, "Well, you are going to be one man down after this case is over, but you are never losing me. I will always find the time for basement boats, bourbon and you."

He briefly laughs, eyes crinkling, and opens out his arms to hug her. She gladly accepts.

"Ziva, America didn't change you. Tony didn't change you. I certainly didn't change you. _You_ are the one who wanted to change. _The credit is all you._ Don't you forget that. _"_

"Yes, you are right. But you all allowed me to and pushed me to do so." Her voice gets heavy, "And for that I am forever grateful."

She takes one last sip from the mason jar and picks up her jacket. He walks her up the stairs and to the door. She turns to face him and he asks, "So, where ya going now?"

She sighs contently, "home. We both should get some sleep. After all, we have a case to close."

He watches her walk off to her car with pride. _We sure do_.


End file.
